The Raven and the Crow
by So Yun
Summary: [UB UniverseAlternate plotline] Harry is sent to live with Snape after Sirius is executed for no reason. What does a strange raven at Snape's manor have to do with it? And why is Sirius's body missing?
1. Silver Paths

Languishing in the hell of Privet Drive was one Harry Potter

**Title: **The Raven and the Crow

**Author: **So Yun

**Rating: **M

**Summary: **UB UniverseAlternate plotline Harry is sent to live with Snape after Sirius is executed for no reason. What does a strange raven at Snape's manor have to do with it? And why is Sirius's body missing?

Chapter one: Silver Paths

Languishing in the hell of Privet Drive was one Harry Potter. Once he had gotten home his Uncle fiercely demanded that he stay in his room all summer. He would come down for meals consisting of stale bread and cheese with half a glass of water.

He often had horrible nightmares of what had happened in June, most vividly when Wormtail cut his arm with the dagger, or the look in Cedric's eyes as he died.

He tossed and turned and screamed some nights. His relatives despised him for interrupting their sleep, but he could not help it. Some nights he would claw at himself, he could not stand the memory of Voldemort caressing his forehead. It made him feel dirty.

Every night Harry knew no one would be there to comfort him when he woke up. He never expected it either. He had a gaping hole in his heart; it was the usual place in a child or teenager which was filled with the love and caring of a parent. But for Harry, that hole was wide open, and empty. No one would fill it and Harry never hoped to dream for it.

Some say he was neglected, even himself knew it in the back of his mind. But he couldn't bring himself to care one little bit. He was just attempting to stay alive now with Voldemort being resurrected and Cedric being murdered.

Even if Cornelius Fudge refused to accept this or the evidence brought forth to proclaim Harry's Godfather Sirius free (a giant rat with a silver claw) the evidence had been caught spying on Harry one day in the great hall. Under the eyes of everyone, one Peter Pettigrew thought himself as untraceable. But one hook nosed, greasy haired Potions Professor's sharp eyes had seen the mad glint of the silver paw.

Thus forth Peter Pettigrew being caught and put in an unbreakable animagus cage then transforming and giving a verbal confession from veritaserrum. Although there was outstanding evidence the minister of magic refused to proclaim Sirius innocent or the fact that Voldemort was indeed back and powerful.

So Harry was living his life by lying on his bed continuous days on end. Hoping to his heart's content that his Godfather would come and take him away. For days he used this hope to keep him moving but soon four weeks of the summer holidays had past and no news whatsoever.

It was night time and he just speedily eaten his small portion called dinner then resumed to reading a potions book lying on his stomach on his bed. Hedwig hooted in the background and for once he became idly consumed in the most boring subject.

Time actually flied and by then he had finished the book surprisingly, having thoroughly enjoyed it a tibbit, he took his glasses off only to interrupted by a rude knock at his door.

"Come in." He said softly and as he reached for his glasses he squinted at the figure.

When his glasses were back on and the figure came into focus he gasped, "Professor Snape!" He scrambled off his bed and stood facing the man. Severus Snape did not have his usual sour look, his eyes narrowing slightly as if it were his way of showing how much he despised the boy.

This time they had a gentle soft glint and his face was blank, "Potter." He uttered softly and surveyed the room. The two stood in awkward silence and Harry wringed his hands, "May I ask why you are here Sir?" He was silently hoping that even if he disliked the man he would take him back to Sirius or Hogwarts.

Snape then bowed his head silently, as if respectfully and answered gently, "I did not ask to be the one to pass the news, but please forgive me if I do not sound sympathetic. Your Godfather was executed by Cornelius Fudge's order yesterday, he deemed him a liar and a traitor. I'm sorry Potter-"

The world span for Harry, whether it was from lack of oxygen because of the breath he was holding in, or lack of vitamins he fell to the ground. His knees smashed the hard floor on impact and he exhaled loudly. He looked at his hands silently and he cursed as he felt a tear rolling down his cheek.

He deftly wiped it away and steadied himself by placing his palms on the floor. He dared not look up at Professor Snape's expression as he silently cried into the floor. He felt his body shaking up and down and he tried vainly to still himself.

He knew in the back of his mind that his potions professor was just standing behind him, not caring or knowing what to do. Severus Snape was not a compassionate, caring man. Indeed he was not.

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I have never seen Albus so devastated; his head is buried in his hands. Just a moment before those hands shook in a terrible rage that eventually simmered down to this silent crying. He was furious at the idiot Fudge; he had just passed the order that Black be executed. I don't know whether to be happy or shocked at the barbarity of it all. Yes I may have disliked the man, but no, he did not deserve this.

I realize that Black also held a place in the headmaster's heart that Potter also holds. Very few own a place there; I know that I am one of them also. Dumbledore used to tell me a lot, but now the start of the war has wearied him. He doesn't tell me as often nowadays.

I watch the headmaster for a few seconds then turn to leave, his choked sob reaches my ears just as I touch the doorknob, "Please Severus, tell Harry, I-" He cannot finish the sentence and I understand. I will do it just once for him. It is dark times ahead.

I apparated to Privet Drive, it looks overly muggle and prim. I wouldn't mind living here. Once I am at number four I proceed to open the door, this task I want over and done with. I ignore the muggle's gaping looks as I invade their home; no doubt they know I am a wizard just like their nephew. But most probably never having seen a full grown one.

I brush past them and step up the stairs; I look in each room until I come to a door with five locks on it. With a few spells I open the door and find a Harry Potter squinting at me without his glasses. I know, now or never I must tell the boy. I must be as nice (if you would describe me as that) as I can. I understand that the boy would be 'fragile' as Minerva calls it so I tread carefully.

I as a Deatheater remember the horror of seeing a teenage boy carrying another dead teenage boy in June. Death is a funny thing; it can shatter the strongest person or make them even stronger. The dark Lord is that way, death makes him more powerful. But I know by the looks of it Potter is close to shattered, this news will shatter him all together.

"Potter." I start, I take heed to take any sarcasm or snideness out of my voice. Then I deliver the news, as if it were a breakable package. The boy falls to his knees and I bet it would have hurt. But I know how he is feeling now, he is numb. I don't intend to comfort him or anything, that is not my job.

I watch as his agile body gently shakes, or shivers, I do not know. He is weeping without tears; he leans into his hands and steadies himself. This death will make him stronger.

I then decide, this half broken boy does not need to stay here any longer. Albus will help him; Potter will become a better man. He will survive. If I know that if the prophesy is true, then Potter needs to be cared for. Some will say, this is not his war, he is a child, and he should not have to fight. But they are wrong, every bit of it is his war, but then they are right. He is a child, he needs to be nurtured. It is my duty to take him to someone who will.

"Potter, pack your things. We are leaving."

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I am shocked; to be certain I search the man's face. He is true; he is taking me as Sirius would have done. I am wondering how Lupin is taking the news, will I stay with him? When is the funeral? How did Sirius die? I dearly hope he was not kissed by a dementor; Sirius did not deserve such a cruel fate. I know that I hardly knew my godfather, but the burden of the loss along with Cedric and my parents kills me.

I don't know whether to feel guilty or not, is everyone around me glass? And if I touch them they shatter? For numb I am encased in a cocoon, I am numb. I stand up shakily and watch as Snape charms my trunk to pack itself. My uneaten cauldron cakes and my photo album fly from under my bed. My books have migrated everywhere; some even fly from my wardrobe.

I watch detached then step after him as he leaves the room. In an odd fashion I childishly match his steps as we leave Privet Drive. I shout a silent, but depressed wave of glee. Sirius's death, funnily enough has affected me mildly. I expected myself to blow up, or burst into hysterical sobbing. But I cannot and it isn't enough. What would Sirius say if knew I didn't grieve him? He'd be appalled, but how can I grieve someone I hardly know? I just wish I got to know him; he was family in everything but blood.

If I had gotten to know him, would he utter those truly magical words which would make me content? No one else understands what its like to have a family that doesn't love you, or having had no one say they loved you. I've blown my chance, and Sirius is gone.

Professor Snape gently grabs my shoulder and we apparate with a crack, I do not stumble for the first time. I follow him slowly as we cross Hogwarts grounds. Usually I would feel extremely happy to be back so early, but I cannot rise to the occasion. I expect him to admonish me for dragging my feet, but indeed he does not. He is also silent, we are brooders each.

Once inside I do not take the time as I usually do to wink at most of the portraits. I

pass them without a glance and stare at my feet. Soon I can see the base of the marble Phoenix where I know Dumbledore's office is behind. Professor Snape tells me quietly to wait here; I do as I'm told.

I stand there, swaying slightly as if faint music is playing. I keep my eyes trained to the floor and stand there for minutes or maybe an hour. I don't care whether they've forgotten I'm here. Everyone forgets me, I'm used to it. Like Sirius forgot to say goodbye to me before he died.

It's not his fault I know, but I can't stop myself from blaming half of my feelings on him, the other on myself. Hot tears gush in my eyes and I let them roll down my cheeks and drip off my chin. There's no point stopping now.

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"Wait here Potter." I gently tell the boy, he sways as if nodding and I leave him uttering the password to the stone. I stride up the revolving staircase and find a more composed Albus sitting with his fingers steepled behind his desk. He looks up as I enter and answer his silent question, "He's outside the door."

Albus nods then says, "I know of what you are going to ask me Severus. You know he cannot stay here, it is school policy. No doubt Cornelius will hunt him down also for what happened in June."

I gape like a fish then shut my mouth, how unjust. I grit my teeth and reply, "What do you ask of me then headmaster?" I know what he will answer but I ask anyway. I daren't refuse; I do not wish to upset him.

"You already know Severus" I nod at his reply then down with a silent huff, "Fine Albus, but only till school starts-"

"Of course Severus, I would not ask anymore then that." I nod again and swallow dryly, oh hell, two weeks with Harry Potter. I guess it wouldn't be half as bad as I imagine, he is grieving and he will be mostly quiet. We sit there for a long time in silence, as if having an internal chat between ourselves.

I finally sigh and realize I have tortured Potter enough by making him wait outside. I nod to Albus and he acknowledges me then I go back down the stairs.

I find Potter still standing and swaying in an odd manner, it takes me a full second to realize he is crying, no gasping sobs, gaping breaths, just silent crying. I grimace and tap him gently on the arm and he nods, still looking down at the floor where his tears are pooling then dissolving.

I glide through the corridors and float his trunk behind me. Meanwhile he trudges behind but keeps pace. Once we are down in the dungeons I turn and look at him carefully.

There are silver tears paths running down his face, he has stopped crying. His eyes now look somewhat haunted, no longer childish in context as they once were. His wild raven hair used to make those blazing emerald depths shine like a child, but no longer.

He has dark circles under his eyes; they nearly ring them like a black eye. This clearly shows lack of sleep, I am betting he has been having nightmares about the Tri-wizard Tournament. The boy is too skinny, even in his baggy second hand clothes I can see bones protruding. Maybe his relatives aren't so caring after all.

I lead him to the fire place in my manor and say clearly "Raven Manor." I gesture for him to step in first; I will follow with his trunk. He takes a quick look back at me, he grimaces as though saying thanks then steps into the flames, and he is soon swallowed.

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If anyone picks up on the twist, please do not write it in a review, please pm or email me.

I'd really love some feedback, maybe as much as UB has gotten. I really appreciate the support reviewers give.

Yun


	2. Gulping Waves

Thanks to my Beta Witherings1972 and all the people who reviewed, I appreciate it dearly

**Title: **The Raven and the Crow

**Author: **So Yun

**Rating: **M

**Chapter: **2/??

**Summary: **UB UniverseAlternate plotline Harry is sent to live with Snape after Sirius is executed for no reason. What does a strange raven at Snape's manor have to do with it? And why is Sirius's body missing?

**Notes: **Warning, changes of POV varies.

Thanks to all the people who reviewed, I appreciate it dearly. You all mean a lot to me. I know it's been a while, but I hope you like this, it may be boring but it's a plot point chapter.

Replies:

**Mikee**: Thankyou very much for the review, I appreciated it dearly for I have read your stories and loved them. I admire you very much and I was delighted to find you had read my stories. Thankyou, please forgive me for my errors.

**Becky**: I apologise for my mistakes and I will try to find a beta. I'm very sorry you find the first person and third person perspective annoying, I will try to fix that next chapter.

I admit grammar and punctuation is not my forte and I though maybe I was getting better. But perhaps not… I will try to fix it. Thankyou for reviewing.

Chapter two: Gulping waves

Snape stepped through the emerald flames gracefully and levitated Harry's trunk to float gently up the stairs to a designated room. Harry stood sullenly by the fireplace, awaiting his Professor. Snape nodded at him and Harry trudged along and followed him up the stairs.

Once at the door Snape turned to the doorknob and gestured for Harry to enter, Harry smiled grimly at his room in thanks and Snape left him to unpack.

As soon as Snape had shut his door gently, there was an eerie silence and Harry grasped the object closest to him and leant onto it. The bed post held his weight and he felt the tears return again and he banged his forehead against it a few times, overwhelmed with emotion.

His knuckles were white and his teeth gritted, he did not know how he was going to get through this. Somehow he felt such a sense of loss even though he knew in his heart that Sirius as a person had not been dear to him.

Sirius was a fatherly figure, friend, family, and support….EVERYTHING that was dear to him and now they were gone.

He stared at his trunk and kicked it limply and walked across his new room. He stared at the wall for a moment through glazed eyes before walking across to the other side. He continued doing this, because somehow the walking got Sirius and his grief off Harry's mind.

Soon, as a blur of wind and colour being blended together, Harry blindly stumbled across the room. He felt so free and his senses came alive. It sort of took the weight off his mind and he felt light for once since the news had gotten to him.

He was so shocked when his door opened with a click, he stumbled out of his haze and smacked into the wall. He rebounded off it sharply and stood still facing it knowing what was going come.

"Good heavens Potter! I don't care what you're doing as long as you don't ruin anything of mine. I was just checking that you hadn't slit your wrists or anything." Snape said sarcastically and stood by the door, his arms folded.

Harry raised his head and turned around slowly and answered in a bleary voice, "Why would I dishonour Sirius's death by going off and killing myself Sir?"

Snape just rolled his eyes and spat, "Oh I don't know, maybe because you're a miserable, sad, lonely little boy"

This just about did it for Harry. Before he could stop himself he lunged towards the Potions master only to be grasped by the wrists and forcibly thrown backwards onto his bed.

Snape just sighed and sneered, "Very predictable, Potter,"

Harry clenched his fists and sat up, he wanted nothing more then to punch the living daylights out of the man. Snape rounded upon him until he was right in front of him, he leaned forward and said in a near whisper, "Go on Potter, say it. You know you want to."

Harry heard these words and tried to restrain himself. Of course he wanted to yell at the man, call him names, everything. But he also didn't want to look like an idiot. Snape wanted him to do to it.

So then he decided, he'd do it.

"You know what Snape; you're a miserable, slimy git who hides away from everyone! You were jealous of my father and Sirius because they had popularity, and you know what! You didn't! So you hated them for it!" He said in a near whispered and stared Snape right in the eye.

"None of the staff or students like you at Hogwarts, only Dumbledore because I bet he pities you! You're a pathetic excuse for a human!" Harry was getting very riled up, but he continued on as Snape just watched him with a mild interest.

"And you know what; I'm betting you had absolutely no friends at all that could've helped stand up to my father. But no one wanted or wanted to be friends with you, you're the sad, miserable, lonely man in fact." Harry finished defiantly and crossed his arms.

He knew he was triumphant the moment Snape nearly trembled with anger, but it wasn't long lived because before he knew it, the man had back-handed him.

Harry felt the burn in his cheek and rubbed but stared angrily back at the professor. Snape merely smirked at him and answered pleasantly, "So you can form sentences Potter? My, my, though very inadequate, good morning Potter." With that he swept out of the room and a tray of breakfast appeared on Harry's bed.

As Harry ate, his cheek was numb but he realized that Snape had taught him a valuable lesson. Not to bottle his grief and anger up. He had to let it out sometime. Because Snape had known, if he had not done so just then, it would have destroyed Harry completely.

Perhaps the violence had been unnecessary but in the back of Harry's mind he knew he deserved it and was almost regretting his words. One day he would be as strong willed as Snape and manage to keep his temper in check.

One day.

So as Harry ate, he smiled little. He was just a tiny bit grateful at the man. He wasn't so bad after all.

As he continued to chew, the food almost felt like cardboard in his mouth and he resigned himself to one last morsel; his stomach still every so empty and hollow. The tray disappeared seconds after.

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Snape left him in peace, the man had said he didn't care what he did so he decided it was high time to do some exploring. Although he didn't really trust what Raven Manor entailed he was curious as any other teenaged boy in a huge uncharted house could be.

So he strode over to his door and leaned an ear against it, he really didn't want to face Snape twice in the morning. Hearing nothing in the outside corridor he slowly turned the door knob, leaning his weight carefully as he opened it a fraction.

Once it was open wide enough and slipped over and peered through the crack, letting out the breath he was holding in as the outside corridor was deemed clear.

Like a snake a he slid through the small opened before turning and shutting it with an almost silent thud, slowly turning the door knob back into place. He felt wrongly suspicious, as if the man would suddenly sneak out from behind a statue or glide round a corner.

Finally he mustered his Gryffindor courage and started off down a random direction that the corridor led him in. He was careful that his sneakers made hardly any noise and he kept a vigilant lookout for the Potions Master.

For many hours he kept himself amused by finding small, dusty unused rooms with intriguing artefacts that didn't seem dangerous. Strangely enough all the portraits were blank and its occupants seemed veiled or missing.

This sent a shiver down Harry's spine each time he passed an intricately, gold filigree framed, blank portrait. It felt like there were eyes watching him from the ancient canvas; watching his every move.

After what seemed like hours he found himself in a largely abandoned part of the manor, it screamed _run away!_ in every sense. More haunting empty portraits, their occupants obviously long gone as wispy tendrils of web covered every inch like an old hag's hair.

Horrible, grotesque statues that peered down at Harry were also covered in the hair like webs and dust showed how long this area had been untouched. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck rose and his whole body stiffened as he scrambled for purchase in the eerie place.

Someone or something was watching him.

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I knew I had been in my private for many hours now because the sun was slowly sinking, haunting my family's manor in a blood red that darkened every window pane. My coffee was dried at the bottom of the cup yet it still smelt strongly and the crumbs on my lunch plate had blown off onto my paperwork from the open window.

I slowly stretched and peered down my nose at the ancient clock resting on the mantelpiece, it was almost supper time and I hadn't heard a peep from Potter.

Indeed I did tell him he could do anything but express his teen angst by slitting his wrists; I suddenly regretted these foolish words. As Potter is an arrogant little berk who probably thinks he owns the place.

So, pinching the bridge of my nose, I rose steadily from my comfortable chair and made my way to find Potter. Merlin knows where he has ended up.

The boy is thoughtless, and he is not selfish but his actions sometimes are. I still do not know to this day how he manages to draw in every being, is he like some sort of enigma? I don't think he is or shall ever be, to me he's a boy. A child still even when everyone else thinks not.

Albus loves him; I see it in his eyes every time he sees the boy. They light up like Christmas and I see joy and love suffusing his blue orbs. It disgusts me because no one has ever looked at me like that. And Potter, he has hardly done anything to warrant the look.

I am walking down the main corridor to Potter's room, the door is still shut and a small light flickers underneath as the sun has completely disappeared. I do not bother to knock as this is my house and I find I can easily hold my composure lest the boy be in a compromising situation.

I should find it amusing if that is so. But if I am to find him crying over his Godfather's death, then I shall be truly uncomfortable. Death is someone so completely foreign to me, but I know it like the back of my hand.

When I'm in the room, the light is flickering on the desk by the side but the room is completely empty, I clench my teeth and close my eyes tightly. I can predict that the boy has seemingly gotten lost.

It is not midway through supper time and I find myself walking to the oldest and most dangerous part of the manor. Trust Potter to find his way there.

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The tension in my body is wringing my bones for all they're worth. My muscles are clenched and I daren't turn around. I am almost tempted to clench my eyes closed in the childish gesture of, 'if I can't see them, they can't see me'. But I don't, because fear and terror is rank in my adolescent body as I pump out sweat like a mass factory.

I'm paralysed for the first time on my life and my body wildly struggles, a voice screaming in my ear, "Run you fool! Run!"

The corridor is noiseless and this makes it somewhat worse as the presence above me shifts and I find it hard to breathe. Finally my adrenalin kicks in and my body frees itself and I'm about to run.

Suddenly I can hear screaming, no squawking and I hear my own voice yell and scream as sharp claws scrape my face and arms as I desperately try to cover myself. I am not longer ready to run as I fight off the unknown creature that continues to bury its claws in my skin.

I know I'm screaming like a girl and some part in me is yelling, "_You're going to die Harry! You're going to die!" _The animal does not relent and I find my knees collapsing in on myself and I crash painfully to the floor. My arms are still shielding my face but my glasses having been knocked off in my fruitless defence.

The animal is loud, I can feel the vibrations of wings and gusts of air as well as sharp claws that scrape and scratch.

Suddenly as fast as it came the creature is gone and I hear it retreating to somewhere above me while simultaneously I hear dreaded footsteps. Is a zombie now coming to finish me off?

I know I look pathetic, crouched on the floor, arms covering my faces whilst I feel blood dripping from cuts. I daren't peek through the gaps in my limbs and fingers to see who it is. My mind is running away with me as my body shakes in the aftermath of my terror.

I finally look through a gap wearily, only managing to see a blurred figure in black.

"Potter."

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It took me a fair while to make it to the west wing where I haven't ventured into since my childhood. When I was little that particular wing gave me nightmares for months. But now as an adult I can tackle it fine, as my presumptions and imagination are not as wild whilst hormones carouse through my body.

As I get closer and closer I hear loud noises and I smell fear rank in the air. I can hear Potter's childish, male voice screaming and screaming. I find my legs almost running, desperate to see what terror can vocalize such noises from the boy.

I can see the scene clearly now, my raven is attacking the poor boy who is cowering on the floor, blood smeared all over his face and arms. I call Raven off with a flick of my arm; he flies away to perch himself on the web infested rafters.

Potter doesn't move, I can still see the tension in his muscles as he does not shift even an inch, the clarity of the situation for some reason does not amuse me. It brings out a foreign sympathy.

As I stare at him he whimpers and clutches his body closer, I find I do not want to scare him so I call his name gently, "Potter."

He looks up at me through the gaps in his fingers like a small child after learning about the bogey man. I move over to him carefully, pluck his broken glasses off the ground and carefully, surprising both myself and him, lift him up under the arm pits.

"Are you alright?" I manage to murmur as I adjust him to his shaky feet and he looks at me with surprise marring his youthful face; he nods blandly. I release him and fix his glasses with a quick Repairo before gently grabbing his forearm and leading him to my Potions lab.

I place his glasses back on his face, gently making sure they do not slip. But I snatch my hand back as if it is burned; that was almost a caring gesture. This alarms me.

"Those cuts should be healed. I apologise, Raven should not have attacked you so viciously or even at all."

Potter sighs, rubbing his face while smearing blood onto his pale cheeks and nods with a weary sigh, "It's alright Professor, I-I really shouldn't have been up here. I'm sorry."

He ducks his head like a child, shame colouring his cheeks as he stared at his dirty white sneakers as he shuffles alongside with me.

I grunt in affirmation, surveying his appearance as we walk. Really, Potter is just a sad and lonely boy.

And somehow I mean that in a sympathetic way, because I remember being just like him.

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I remember a warm, large hand gently pulling me as my own feet managed to drag themselves to follow the man in black. I kept my head down, blood suffusing my cheeks as I remember what I had done.

In my rebelliousness I had thought that once again I could get away with whatever I wanted and foolishly stumbled into an obviously unused area of Professor Snape's manor.

And of course there's always a reason for that and I had found out why.

I did not deserve the man's sympathy, I would have rather him yell and scream at me till he went white than this haunting silence. Is he disappointed at me? Of course, does he pity me?

Of course; as I am a sad specimen under his watchful gaze.

Ever since I met the man I believe I disappointed him; even that very first day in the Potion's classroom where I was not inept enough to answer his questions. Nearly every one probably knew the answers yet were too frightened to say.

If I was strong I would have found out more about my world, their world. But as Snape always says, I'm lazy and selfish.

I wonder whether Sirius would be disappointed to see me now. But he can't; he's busy rotting in the ground or open air; birds picking at his bones and no one in the world giving a care.

What a sad way to die. To think I could have done something, anything about it.

I am weak.

My trudging feet make small whispers as he glides and I shuffle down the corridor. It is so quiet it's eerie but yet I keep my eyes on the ground. It's funny; I've never known how to grieve.

Not even when I was old enough to receive the information that my parents were dead; I had no parents. I remember being four years old and sitting their, my young mind processing the words. My head slightly tilted to the side and my eyes wide and innocent, hardly knowing what it meant.

But as I grew up, I came to understand that no, I had no parents. No they would not come back. No, no one could ever be or replace them. I never cried over them, I never could find the feeling or emotion to draw up the tears. I never had any memory of them and all I had in my mind was a fuzzy outline of a woman and man, so foreign in my mind.

But I was thirsty for parents, thirsty for affection, thirsty for love. So in my first year when so many professors told me about them and I got the photo album to put a face to the name; I drank it up.

Like a hungry child receiving gruel after a hard days work who had been starving for so many years. Someone offered and I greedily grabbed it like the only opportunity in my life.

When Cedric died, something inside me got ill and I constantly felt awful, felt guilty felt bad. If it hadn't have been for me….oh Merlin and his parents. For a child to lose their parents it is easy enough to grasp, that is only if they had never known them.

But for parents to lose their child is a felony; I feel like a criminal. Perhaps I should have taken Sirius's spot in Azkaban because I sure as hell deserved it.

Sirius. Something in his chest twinged painfully and he grimaced, the air rushing out of him like a gulping wave. He had tried to keep his mind off his Godfather for what seemed like eternity but really wasn't.

He remembered when he heard the news that Wormtail had been captured and his Godfather was free. He remembered his own happiness at the news that perhaps Sirius would finally get custody of him and maybe…just maybe he would live with Sirius.

But no, when Snape came and told him the news, the hope of a new life inside him that flickered brightly, died. It was snuffed out like Sirius's life was before, something died inside Harry when Sirius died.

And Harry almost died with it.

Snape is ahead of me, his hand still on my forearm gently, his head is not bowed like mine. It is raised high as he watches blankly at our surroundings as we pass by them like a blur. His strides are long and many of mine are coupled to match him.

I feel like a child again, matching someone's walk. Hoping fruitfully that if you walk like them you will become them. I never thought I'd see the day that I'd want to be like Snape.

He's a bitter man and his lips contort when he grimaces as if in pain. His eyes are endless yet he can conquer any look he wishes to stare someone down. One day they'll not stare at me in festering hatred or loathing but perhaps praise.

I know that could not ever possibly happen, but all I can do is hope.

Where am I to go now while Sirius has left me behind? Left behind just like the night my parents were murdered or the night when I brought back Cedric's body to Hogwarts.

Am I alone again?

RBRBRBRBRBRBRBRB

They reached his lab and Snape opened the door and tugged Harry in behind him and gently pushed him into the stood beside the bench. Harry sat without a fight and as Snape turned his back to find various potions, Harry buried his head in his hands.

He couldn't do it, he couldn't face the man that had saved him from the Dursley's, saved him from Dumbledore's pity speech and saved him from an evil raven. He refrained from snorting at the last one as he realized the humour of the situation.

The cuts marring his face and arms have stopped bleeding a while ago and dirty, brown trickles of blood were morbidly painted across his pale skin.

As he buried his fingers in his hair, he realized how long it had been since he had taken an actual shower. His grimaced in disgust and pulled harshly at his roots; hissing in pain.

This brought back the Professor's attention, armed with potions he turned around and frowned at the boy who was slowly folding in on himself. The boy looked so small, his legs propped up on the stool, and his head bowed forwards, back hunched over and his elbows leaning on his knees and his fingers ripping viciously at his hair.

The Professor almost huffed and he placed the vials down gently before prying Harry's fingers away from his hair. Harry looked up as the older man released his hands; shame suffused his face as he realized there were tears swimming in his eyes.

He hastily looked down again and started fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Snape closed his eyes before turning back to the potions and picking them up one by one. He silently kneeled down before Harry so he was eye level with the boy and handed him a turquoise coloured potion.

He made sure that Harry swallowed it all, for once a non callous look in his eyes as the teen sniffled quietly and drank all of them without protest. In silence Snape reached over for a pot of balm, raising his eyes brows he lifted it up for Harry to see whilst unscrewing the lid.

He then handed it to him in silence and stepped back as Harry quietly slathered copious amounts on his cuts. He watched in amazement as the cream glided over the open wounds before sealing them shut like glue.

For moments afterwards he watched the skin, perfectly, unflawed, like a brand new baby's skin. It became painfully obvious that perhaps Harry had never been raised a wizard and would never fully understand his own world.

Snape grimaced as he thought unpleasant thoughts of the Potters and how he pitied their child for they had left him. He would never understand or forgive James Potter's misdeeds to him, but he could never blame Lily for anything and now he found he could not blame her child for anything less.

Harry kept silent as he handed the balm back, his head snapped up though, as Snape slammed in on the table. Angry at the world and himself for letting a child become this way. Even though the natural grieving processes required human feeling it did require inhuman feelings or reactions.

Harry was a mere robot or that is what he seemed to be like. If only someone could fix it, Severus Snape pondered on this as he stared hard at the child. The only persons who came to mind were that blasted werewolf Lupin.

Although he admitted he did not loathe Remus Lupin as much as Sirius Black and James Potter, any Marauder he could not stand.

But if he could perhaps reel the man in just for the boy's sake, then that was an entirely different thing. No, he could do it; he wasn't being nice he just preferred a human to insult rather than a droid.

"Potter. I will not, cannot stand this anymore. You are a boy, not a droid. You are a human not a robot. I know you perceive feelings differently from every other person with you Hero Complex."

He said the last bit with a snarl unconsciously, not directly aimed at the child. It was just of his nature and not exactly something he could control. It was heroic indeed but at a default merely to the own boy's fault.

"I will not stand by and let grief destroy you. You are strong, you will always be strong. Though that does not mean weakness is necessarily a bad thing, weaknesses can help you." He stressed the last bit and knelt in front of the placid boy so he could stare directly into Harry's eyes.

He felt completely stupid and utterly weird lecturing the boy in a non demeaning way but perhaps the way he would induce his own Slytherins in on the induction night after sorting or after a particularly bad issue or event.

But maybe the boy was truly all houses but dominantly Gryffindor and a sprinkle of Slytherin as he fared to use that side rarely but to his own advantage.

The boy had a small sparkle of something he could not decipher swimming in the twin pools of emerald. But it faded out like a light in darkness only to be renewed, ignited again by something akin to hope or even love.

It was ridiculous that Harry Potter's eyes could show so many things in a single glance or look. It was utterly ridiculous that he was also oblivious to his own makings and could make your heart stop at the anger in his eyes, make you melt with the love possessed in the orbs or make you pale by the fear shimmering.

When Sirius Black died, Snape knew something inside Harry Potter died too. Like a piece to his jigsaw, the final piece that completed him as a whole. But what he didn't know was that jigsaws could stay uncompleted as that was the mystery of the whole and you didn't need to rely on just one piece to complete the picture.

As the rest of the pieces still made a picture and the only minor flaw was the final missing piece, the piece that you didn't necessarily need.

The boy's eyes were devoid of emotion and his lips moved wordlessly for moments before they actually made a noise, "I don't care anymore, I don't."

Then he reburied his head his hands, ignoring the Potions Master blatantly.

The Potions Master was not one to be trifled with and he furiously but carefully pried Harry's hands away again and clasped them in a non gentle manor to send something of a message, "You will listen to me child, listen up and listen hard. I do not care whether you do not care but I do care whether a child, a mere child is subjected to such blatant disregard."

The child in question stared, not more like glared at the elder, his teeth gnashing furiously and a fire emblazing in his eyes.

"Your Godfather was executed, murderer, killed for absolutely no reason. The one person you ever loved and loved you is dead. There's no going back and you have to get over this mound and keep moving, because if you are forever paused, stopped then you will get no where in life and that mound will always be there."

Harry shook his head, mumbling something in his breath until he looked straight up at Snape, "My parents are dead, Cedric Diggory is dead and S-Sirius….Padfoot, is dead," He choked but looked straight ahead with a determined look on his face.

"They weren't my entire fault, but that doesn't mean I ain't not to blame for the rest. I'm going to get _revenge_, I'm going to kill Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort, even if it's the last thing I ever do." Harry spat, a fury burning in his eyes and he comforted himself by wrapping his arms around himself.

Snape's eyes brows rose nearly above his hairline at this statement before they furrowed together like a storm cloud, he grasped Harry's forearms so tight that it was painful and Harry winced.

"I don't care honestly _Potter_, do whatever you like. But if you go after them like a Madman then I seriously underestimated you. You will be just as bad as them, a _murderer_." He spat and released Harry with a flourish before striding out of the lab.

At dinner that night Harry sat at one end, purple fingerprint shaped bruises stark against his pale skin and angry closed over cuts making him look like the living dead.

He was twiddling his fork, hardly eating and attempting to ignore the dark gaze that hovered over from, directed from the other side of the table.

Snape sat there, with a wine glass swirling it, but his eyes never leaving Harry. The same raven that attacked him before perched precariously on the fireplace mantle behind him. Its dark gaze also never leaving Harry; it chilled Harry to the bone.

"May I be excused?" Harry asked curtly, dropping his fork as gently as possible, raising his eyes carefully to meet those of his Professors. Snape sat his wine glass down before nodding and starring at the glass as if it were a chalice of blood.

Harry got up to leave, but as he got to the double doors he was paused by Snape's ice cold voice.

"Your beloved Lupin will be here to check on you tomorrow. I expect your best behaviour Mr Potter." He said in a dangerously quiet tone as he picked up his wine glass and took a sip before surveying Harry over the rim.

Harry smiled at the thought, staring at the ceiling; Remus was coming to rescue him, at last! He cleared his throat and managed a quiet, "Yes Sir," before taking the grand steps two at a time.

The Raven cawed behind him; he could feel the bird's gaze burning a hole through his back.

**TBC…..**

_Remus. Remus. Remus._

To be honest, writing the raven scene, attacking Harry chilled me to the bone. Especially late at night, home alone in the absolute dark, near a window.

Ha…ha…

Please review, no flames : )

Yun


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